


Emptiness

by Shinku_Seishin



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, Drugs, Drunk Sex, F/F, I'm Sorry, Post episode 5, SO MUCH SADNESS, Sadness, Self-Harm, Suicidal tendencies?, Tagging as I go, Tagy Tag Tag, fractured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinku_Seishin/pseuds/Shinku_Seishin
Summary: Max tries to live with everything she has seen, felt, done and taken. How long can you go before you destroy yourself?





	1. You Are Alone. But not quite.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello this is my first work here to AO3, I have written before on Reddit and a little on FFN (the account which sadly does not exist anymore). This is just...really sad and I needed to write it all down to help with my own stuff. The writing style and use of 2nd person POV is inspired by http://archiveofourown.org/works/4013296 written by the user Danybear.

**5 Days since the funeral. 2 AM.**   


**  
**

You are empty and you feel nothing. You haven't left your dorm room since returning from the funeral and you're really starting to smell now. But you don't think it matters, why would it? You stopped caring, or feeling, as soon as Time had spat you out into that graveyard without any warning to face the consequences of what you did. 

You'd probably have starved by now if it wasn't for Dana and Juliet. They bring you meals every day and while you always tell yourself that you won't eat it, that pesky habit of eating whenever you could would rear its ugly head. It's strange, you think. That you still want to keep living. But instincts can't be argued with you suppose. Eating is just one of those things you can't stop yourself from doing.   


A knock at the door breaks you from your rather morbid thoughts but you don't move a muscle to answer it.   


Your door swings open slowly and what you see even manages to surprise you. Just a little.  


Victoria is standing in your doorway, dressed as immaculately as ever, and you stare up at her from your position on the floor with your knees raised up into your body and your cheeks streaked with tears. You don't feel anything, but you still cry. Most of the time.  


Victoria approaches you slowly, as if you'd lash out at her if she moved suddenly and you just might, and places a bottle on the floor. Then she backs up and leaves, shutting the door quietly. 

It takes you a few moments of staring the bottle like it was a rip in the fabric of space time for your predisposition for nosiness to win out and you to reach out tentatively. Picking the bottle up you casually notice its alcohol volume of 33% and the bold black lettering, spelling out "Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey". Very strange, you think. Victoria is sharing her alcohol with you, as if she cared even a little bit how you felt.   


If you were anywhere near feeling normal, which you aren't. Not even close. You'd give the bottle back in a very embarrassing and anxiety filled confrontation with Victoria. But you are not normal anymore, drinking might just help. 

Slowly raising the bottle to your lips, an image of Victoria's room from another time flashes in your mind's eye. A couple bottles of Fireball hidden in a sock draw. The image quickly dissolves however when the taste spreads across your tongue and seeps down your throat. You drink more, barely noticing that your throat is burning and you need to cough or you're gonna spit all this expensive whiskey back up onto the carpet. It feels amazing, you think. 

  


Half the bottle is gone when you notice that you're now standing outside of Victoria's door. You blink and now you're inside her dorm room. Everything is familiar and a thought enters your mind that it shouldn't be, not really. Vic is sitting on the bed, the twin bottle of Fireball resting next to her and shes staring at you, as if waiting for something. Maybe she asked you a question and you didn't notice? What you do notice is that you blinked again and now the both of you are sitting opposite each other, taking swigs in unison. 

You're saying things and so is she, but they don't quite reach you. Each sentence is marked by another swig of Fireball and everything has been hazy for quite a while now. 

Surprise, you blinked again and now the both of you are flush against each other, lips locked and hands roaming over bare skin. It seems you both lost your clothes and you can't remember where they went. Thoughts and memories are rushing through your head, the night at the pool, kissing Chloe for the first time and for the last time. Then memories that are not your own but are. From a different life you never lived but did live. It hits you that you already know what Victoria tastes like, seconds before you taste her for the first time again.

You see Victoria's face between your legs and its familiar, you think it belongs there and those memories that you don't own but you do are cascading down on you in waves. Meeting her in Seattle, becoming friends, her helping you to be more confident. Slowly forgetting about Chloe. You see your first kiss with Tori and suddenly everything disappears in a blinding white light that completely unravels you and pieces you back together and now your not you anymore, but you are and nothing makes sense through the haze but Victoria just feels right against you. 

And then you see nothing.   


  


**6 Days since the funeral. 10 AM.**   


**  
**

You wake up with the weight of the sun on your head. You remember bits and pieces but not the whole picture. For some reason the sight of Victoria next to you isn't surprising, it feels almost normal. 

You are Max Caulfield. Except you're not. But you are.


	2. Responsibility.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max learns how to see someone very special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this on a bus. Nearly missed my stop.

**Stiill 6 Days since the Funeral. 10:30 AM.**

You basically ran out of Victoria's room after you had a few moments to process. You realize this took longer than normal because, for a few moments, you swore that you lost yourself. You don't quite know what that means so you decide that ignoring it is better. The hangover you have probably doesn't help the decision making process.

You notice dully that Dana already dropped in on your dorm room by the bowl of cereal that’s been left out on your desk. A tiny part of you wonders what she thought when you weren’t in your bed or pressed into one of the corners sobbing quietly. Probably happy that something had finally changed after days of crying.

A strange thought enters your mind, it’s a thought you’ve had at least twice in the last few days but last night’s experience with the whiskey has cemented it in your brain. Everything was better when you were drunk, you think. You didn’t have control and you weren’t trying to make everything perfect. You want that freedom from that responsibility.

You still have some fireball left surprisingly, you didn't realise you were that much of a lightweight, so you drink in the hopes it takes the edge of the hangover off, somehow you already know it will.

Your feet start to take you somewhere without you really having to tell them to, you know where you want to go.

You spot Warren wave at you and Brooke scowl just slightly, but you ignore both of them and that seems to cheer her up a little. Later you’ll notice that Warren texted you to say it was good you were out of your room, but you didn't have any data and didn't receive it.

A short time later your shoes start making footprints in the sand as you approach a very dusty and aged trailer. You chugged the last of the Fireball you had left before stepping onto the beach and you’re starting to feel a little hazy.

You call out to Frank and he turns, but you blink and now your breathing is heavy and your shoes are muddy. You're sitting down resting against a rock with a lit joint between your fingers. Your brain stutters a moment when you stand up and look at what you were resting against: Chloe’s gravestone.

Tears roll down your cheeks as memories from your childhood cascade down on top of you. Some are clear but others are hazy like the photos you can jump. Those aren't really yours, but they are because you're in them. Or not really you but they still are you.

It's overwhelming because now that one week is playing in fast forward in your head and there's at least 10 different versions of it. You think you scream and clutch your(her? My?) head in pain.

Everything cuts to black and now you're standing on the cliff top under the Lighthouse. You're holding an acid tab between your fingers and pop it in your mouth. Here you're not in control, just watching, still crying.

You blink and now you're in control again, in the junkyard. It's nighttime and you're looking up at the stars.

“Yo SuperMax” A soft, impish voice says next to you. You twist your head and there laying on the train tracks with you is Chloe. Alive and smiling fiendishly.

“Chloe.” You breath out. Fully believing what you see. A train horn sounds in the distance.

“The only and only.” Chloe speaks softly, too softly almost, you have to strain to hear her.

“I missed you.” You croak out. Your throat is very dry and sore. How long have you been out here? Vibrations dance along your body but you don't register them.

“I never left you, Max.” Chloe reassures you, sitting up and pulling you up opposite her. Her eyes are lidded and her mouth is open, inviting you in.

You don't say anything this time. You're body is vibrating with excitement(or is that just the train?) and you lean in to press your mouth to hers.

Before you can, a deafening horn blares out and startles you. You thought you heard a shout of your name just before it but you can't be sure. Then suddenly a body slams into your own and pushes you to the side, clear of the train tracks just as a train screams by, it's wheeling throwing sparks to the sides.

You cough and look to your side. Laying next to you, panting and short hair disheveled and face contorted somewhere between worry, fear and  
anger. Is Victoria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly had Max jump off the cliff and have her wash back up on the beach. But then I got the idea that Victoria has to save her and that would be kinda hard for her to do while Max is in the ocean. Would have led to the both of them being in wet clothes together though...perhaps another time. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented and left Kudos so far! Compliments and criticisms are welcome :)


	3. Fragmented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild NSFW warning.

**7 Days since the Funeral. 12:01 AM.**

Victoria is screaming and shouting at you. So loud that you can feel the air vibrating. You're not even even listening, too busy going over and over what just happened in your mind. You feel fear, anxiety, hate and unbridled joy at what you just saw.

 

Victoria’s finger touches your face and comes back bloody, you only now notice the familiar coppery taste of blood dripping into your mouth from your upper lip. It doesn't even worry you anymore.

 

You spot your bag lying on the ground on the opposite side the train tracks. You stand up get it but your legs immediately give. The only thing that stopped you from falling completely was Victoria grabbing your arm. There's so much worry in her voice as she helps you across to your bag. You want to comfort her and tell her it's okay but you don't because you want to smash her face in with a brick and you also want it between your legs. You say nothing.

 

She picks up your bag for you and she sounds alarmed after she looks in it. The only things in your bag is alcohol and drugs you brought off of Frank. You idly fret that it's time to buy more and your very surprised all that is in your bag and you want to take it all and die and you look forward to doing it with ChloeVictoriaRachelWARREN **NATHANMARK**.

 

**You wake up. I wake up. Max woke up. You're in Victoria’s room. I’m in Victoria’s room. Max was in Victoria’s room. Your bag is on the floor. My bag is on the floor. Max’s bag was on the floor. You reach to get it and take out the sleeping pills. I reach to get my bag from the floor and grab the sleeping pills. Max reached to get her bag and took out her sleeping pills. You down them with Fireball. I down them with Fireball. Max downed them with Fireball. You want the Dark Room and memories of Jefferson touching you to go away. I want the Dark Room and memories of Jefferson touching me to go away. Max wanted the Dark Room and memories of Jefferson touching her to go away.**

 

**You want to die. I want to die. Max wanted to die.**

 

**You died. I died. Max died.**

 

**2pm.**

 

Your eyes open slowly. Everything is out of focus. Everything except the eyes above you. They're brown. Blue. Hazel.

 

Everything comes back into focus now. Those eyes are Victoria’s eyes. You're in her room again. On her bed again. Your clothes feel stiff and so do you. Victoria tells you that you started screaming and clutching your head and tried to run off but she grabbed you, passing out in her arms. You notice that there's a towel rolled up on the floor, almost completely soaked with blood. Victoria notices and tells you that your nose wouldn't stop bleeding. She also tells you that you should be in a hospital bed but you didn't listen. You’re too busy wondering why you aren't with Chloe.

 

You blink.

 

Max looked up at Victoria’s worried and slightly annoyed face. She smirked and reached up, grabbing Victoria by her collar. At first she resisted, saying things about how Max should go to the hospital but Max’s lips silenced her quickly. Max knew every inch of Tori’s skin, knew exactly where to kiss, knew exactly where to place her hands to drive her wild. Tori was putty in Max’s expert hands. As quickly as Max had pulled Victoria down, she pushed her back up and brought herself up in the same, fluid motion. Removing her shirt she grinned at Tori, daring her to do the same. With shaking hands Victoria accepted, removing her shirt and throwing it across the room, making a very expensive, tasty (but not for eating) plasma TV wobble. Max wasted no time in attaching her mouth to Tori’s now exposed collar bone, sinking her teeth in slightly and making Tori moan out.

 

Max blinked.

 

I open my eyes and see pale skin right in my face, my mouth is attached and sucking. I draw back and look up confused and then my jaw hit the floor. There was Victoria, looking at me with lidded eyes and a growing hickey where my mouth had been only moments before. I noticed I no longer had my shirt on and that’s when I entered a state of shock. If alarm bells hadn’t been ringing before, then dog damned air raid sirens were blaring now. Awkwardly I get up and gather my shirt and bag, my eyes wide open and staring at Victoria. I’m surprised she hasn’t torn into me for being in her room when she was undressing or mocking me for my plain bra. Conscious of how much like a deer in the heads I must look right now I run for the door, opening it and jumping for my own door just across the hall. Once I’m safely inside my room I sigh and throw my head back against the door, wondering just what the hell is going on. I should text Chloe and get her to help me make sense of all of this.

 

I blink.

 

You open your eyes.

 

You do not know who you are anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard. I'm gonna go get drunk now.


	4. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two old friends give Max the help she desperately needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one.

**9 Da-MONTHZ-SEKKOND-TIME BEFOREAFTERDURING BIRTHDEATHREBIRTH 00:00AMPM**

 

**_2 minutes since you lost your mind._ **

  
  
  


You are were who? Me I am Max was who HELP ME,. sorry? dleifluaC xaM llits ruoy sraey 5 retfA. That who Blackwell madness? Halloween death Alice in Wonderland hatter what? Milk, batteries and soda explosions. Sighing Hot Dawg Men. Eating plasma what? IS ANYONE OUT THERE? Lets tryy middle fingers photos. Childhood what? Chloe. I’m. Your. Who? Dying bees all gonna die. You’re all gonna die. You’re all gonna die. Chloe is gonna die. Kate is gonna die. Everyone is going to die. Must save Arcadia - LIGHTHOUSE MEANS SAFETY I’m what I don’t know am I who. xaM ,emoh emocleW. I Me Who Victoria rooftops. Bunker help stormy skies in the spanish sahara. I AM LOST. homeless  is she me? Am i futurePASTPRESENT. Polaroid walls. William? Keys please. Keybaords key chain chain of events causations chaos thoery. I I I I I I I AM AM AM AM AM AM AM YOU.

  
  
_ Chloe’s shade looks down at Max, lying on her dorm floor, eyes darting everywhere. Victoria is banging on the door threatening to call a teacher, an ambulance or anything to make Max get help. There is nothing the shade of Chloe can do, except gaze mournfully at what has become of her best friend. Rachel’s shade entwines her ghostly hand with Chloe’s, bringing both their arms up to point at Max. Chloe looks across about to object, but Rachel’s knowing smile on her opaque face gives Chloe pause. Then acceptance. The Ghosts lean forward and press their cold lips to Max’s temples. Her eyes close and the door opens to allow Victoria entry. The room is empty, except for Max.  _


	5. Happy Endings Don't Exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one year later, Max and Victoria are happy, Max found a way to deal with the pain. One nice happy ending. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

**1 Year later.**

 

You're already smiling when you wake up, the warm of the body pressed into your back enveloping you. Victoria comments on you being awake and you can’t help but laugh, she always could tell the changes in your breathing when you woke up. 

 

Victoria stretches as she gets out of the bed you share, nagging at you to get out of bed as your eyes trace along her shoulder blades and down her back to her cute little butt. You sigh and tell her that you’d rather stay in bed and fuck her brains out, to which she blushes and you smile. But then she reminds you about the opening night of your collection quietly. You nod and tell her you didn’t forget.

 

You wonder how you managed to fall asleep at nearly 2pm but you know exactly why. Tori really learned how to push your buttons. You spot the brochure that the people from the Chase Space made and distributed,  _ Max Caulfield: Little Pieces of Time _ the headline reads, followed by a photo of you. You learned to stop being self conscious and now your selfies cover social media, and Chase Space advertisements apparently. The bottom of the brochure catches your eye and you remember all the arguments you had with Victoria’s parents, who own the Chase Space, about having the dedication on all of the advertising material.  _ For Chloe, Rachel and Kate. _

  
  
  


**At the Gallery.**

 

You wander the halls, shaking hands and giving little vague pieces of explanation here and there on different pictures that are displaying. One reporter asks about the reasons you created all of this work. The smile you have plastered on your face falls and you tell him that it was a healing process. That taking all of your pain and displaying it, sharing it, helps you to carry the burden. You're still speaking passionately to him, and now a group of spectators, when Victoria appears suddenly at your side and grabs your arm gently, holding up a tissue. It’s only now you realise that you’ve been crying almost the entire time. 

 

You give Victoria a hug and reassure her that everything is okay. You go to stand beside the shot that hurts the most out of all of them, just to prove to yourself that you still can. It’s shattered glass on a black floor, with you reflected in every single piece. You called it  _ Fractured In My Own Mind _ and everyone you talk to doesn’t really understand it. But that’s okay, you think. It’s for your benefit more than theirs. 

 

**The Streets of Seattle.**

 

You and Tori are walking down the chilly streets of Seattle. The gallery night finished and you wanted to go for a walk, Victoria just couldn’t tell you no. Your smiling the whole time, thinking about your future. You decide that sometimes, happy endings do exist. 

  
You step off the curb blindly looking the wrong way, you were always doing that as a kid and Chloe said it was because you were so clumsy you forgot which was right and which was left. The last thing you hear is Tori screaming your name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the gallery thing has already been done (Very awesomely, by a literally amazing writer who goes by the name Recourse(Check them out here:http://archiveofourown.org/users/Recourse/pseuds/Recourse) and just basically all their LiS stuff is great.) but it was the only good way I could have Max find a way to heal given her photography talent. 
> 
> I know its barely been a few hours since I dropped Chapter 4 but a while after I posted it the ideas just kept flowing again and I had to write. 
> 
> If you were wondering, both this chapter and chapter 4 were both written in 1 sitting each. I suppose this isn't good for having a coherent story but I feel it gives everything a much more emotional charge.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads this and I wish you luck in whatever struggles you face, I can be found on reddit by the exact same username if you ever want to chat or something. You aren't alone and despite the final message of my story, happy endings do happen.


	6. Epilogue: Another Time, Another place.

******The Streets of Seattle**

 

You and Tori are walking down the chilly streets of Seattle. The gallery night finished and you wanted to go for a walk, Victoria just couldn’t tell you no. Your smiling the whole time, thinking about your future. You decide that sometimes, happy endings do exist.

 

You step off the curb looking the right way, narrowly avoiding being flattened by the bus coming towards you. You hear Tori scream your name and you just can't help but laugh at the expression on her face. It takes a few minutes of you doubled over laughing before Victoria loses her nerve and joins you. 

 

Snow begins to fall around the two of you laughing hysterically on the edge of the curb of the now deserted Seattle street.

 

In the distance, two shadowy figures watch from a side street, hands joined and faces plastered with smiles. They turn and walk away, fading away into the falling snow.


End file.
